


Reverse Photosynthesis

by lets_keep_walking



Series: Four-Inch Little Shit-Biscuits [3]
Category: Trolls (2016)
Genre: F/M, Fluff and Smut, Heats, Lies, Very vague and awful smut, brooke and puzzle are precious kay, but smut nonetheless, i gotchu anon, i wILL FIG HT YOU, old tumblr stuff, passive aggressive creek, then again when isn't he passive aggressive, why did i write this shit for four inch little shit biscuits
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-07
Updated: 2017-09-06
Packaged: 2018-12-24 21:20:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 13,439
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12021213
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lets_keep_walking/pseuds/lets_keep_walking
Summary: One night.Just one night. One night and then she'd go home, and everything'll be fine.Right?





	1. Tick-Tock

**Author's Note:**

> in which they bang and ke$ha is used as a writing drive
> 
> Prompt belongs to: [@ask-artsy-oncie](http://ask-artsy-oncie.tumblr.com/) on tumblr

Maturity was something everyone had to deal with. It was inevitable. Things changed, and in tandem, people grew up, whether it be mentally or physically, it was something that happened no matter how long you’d try to postpone it.

The same could be said for _them_.

A troll’s way of maturing was simplistic. At the age of eighteen, their body would undergo another process of development, one that would prepare them for their eventual bout of reproduction. There was no ifs ands or buts about it. They were going to change on cue whether they were going to have children or not.

The change would take a few weeks to start, but hormones would begin their cycle through their system, alerting glands to start the production of bodily fluids, which would induce certain changes throughout a troll’s mood.

But, as was nature’s wont, bodily functions took off without a hitch but took an eternity or four to actually finish. Some speculated that the body never actually stopped growing, and while that could be true, that didn’t make up for its ability to be as problematic as possible.

Although the body was an equally confusing and fascinating thing, it had absolutely had no qualms with starting when it wasn’t needed. Systems were prone to being a nuisance, and they all had one season when they started to get loose and let their subconscious have it.

Spring.

While daisies were being pushed from the ground and animals begin to arise from their slumber, epiphytes began to grow, and future parents waited excitedly for their child’s pod to open up. Simultaneously though, seeds were being fertilized, trolls mysteriously disappeared to the forest only to reappear later, and, for others, life continued as planned, just with a little extra personal space.

The princess, however, had been special in this case, as any minor would have been. She had just turned eighteen during her first season, so her body wouldn’t click over to its cycle ‘till later. While the time passed though, she grew curious as to why her friends began to fade away from her for a while at a time. She had just assumed that they had their own pastime going on, but when Guy, one of the trolls who vehemently ignored the heat season explained it to her; she got a little more than an earful.

“Right.” She had nodded in understanding. “Right. So…this,” she gestured to him. “And this,” she pointed at herself before clasping her hands. “Together?”

“Pretty much,” lazily came the auto-tuned reply. “Everyone’s pretty quiet about it though, it’s not something you really want to talk about in public.”

Once she had begun to observe a little more, she saw it, too. Despite the sudden boom in pods, people still went on about their daily lives. Her friends never stopped being her friends. Some of them had needs that had to be taken care of, and some of them actually had their own pastime that she’d had no idea about. Who knew Fuzzbert had a passion for sewing?

So, she tucked away her questions, comments, and her concerns. Her friends were fine. They weren’t the ones that she needed to worry about.

In reality, it was the spunky pink princess that needed to be more watchful of where she was walking. When another year passed and she eventually turned nineteen, she was all but unfamiliar with what would transpire when a few of their people would seemingly ‘get lost’ in the forest.

But that didn’t mean the heat didn’t affect her too. She was one of the ones who were hit hard. Throughout the season, she had to wear a longer dress for reasons other than the slight chill, had trouble concentrating on what people were telling her, and would groan in frustration at night before hastily acknowledging the almost painful throbbing at the summit of her waist. She knew it would pass eventually when she was finished, usually too euphoric to worry about anything, but she was everything other than clueless.

She was clumsy. And she knew it, too.

Hanging out with a couple of her friends, she didn’t realize how whacky her depth perception was and thought that the branch a little ways next to her was farther than she thought, and nearly missed it when swinging over to land on it, barreling towards the ground instead. Her weight was mostly caught on her side, but her ankle must’ve been dislocated; she couldn’t put any weight on her limb whatsoever.

Satin and Smidge initially came forth to her aid, and helped her home. The pain hadn’t left her, nor did the overall discomfort at seeing the bone jut inside her skin. There was one person who was incredibly equipped with medicinal advice and probably wasn’t affected by the heat as much as everyone else was. So when the sun slipped behind the horizon, she smoothed the folds of her dress and hobbled over to his home.

The rock above it was smooth, too much to look like a natural formation, but he claimed that it fooled predators into leaving it alone, and she gave him credit where it counted. Lifting her skirts, she carefully limped to the face of the rock and rapped her knuckles against it.

“Branch?” she asked softly, “are you awake?”

The tell-tale sound of his peep-hole opening startled her, but inwardly she smiled, getting on her knees to talk to him properly.

“What?” he groaned. He didn’t even sound the least bit tired, to her delight. “If it’s a party, I’m not going.”

“Relax, you sap. I need your help,” she replied. “I dislocated my ankle, and I have no idea what to do.”

A flicker of amusement passed her faced when she saw his eyes widen, and he didn’t even chide her for the nickname. Immediately did the entrance open, and she was pulled from the ground and into his arms, where she was promptly placed onto a nearby chair.

“Nice catch,” she remarked, settling on the chair to get comfortable. He didn’t seem to find it as funny as she did.

“Which ankle?”

“My right. Is it that big’a deal?”

“Of course it is,” he stressed, gently bringing her foot closer so he could see.“It could set in the wrong position and get stuck there. You’d have to re-break it in order to get it loose again.”

“Geez, that sounds like a lot of- _ow_!” she flinched when he popped the bone back into place with a wet snap. When she opened her eyes, she could wiggle her toes again with only slight repercussions, and the indentation on her foot was gone.

“Can you walk?” he asked gruffly. In a flurry of skirts she hopped to her feet and tested her ankle. The discomfort quelled after a few turns of her foot, and when she nodded, he lead her deeper into his home.

She squealed a little on the inside. She was actually getting a chance to see more of his supposedly heavily fortified, Bergen proof survival bunker without so much as a threat! And it was actually interesting! The tunnels were lined with shelves full of odd plants and weird-looking salves. She even got a glimpse of a _cannon_ in his armory! Who even made those anymore?

He let her have some sort of free roam around the place, instructing her not to touch anything should it react, and answered the questions that she had. It was going to be a long walk to whatever he was supposed to get her. She almost forgot about her now sprained ankle.

When did one troll need so much? She counted six food storehouses, two weapon arsenals, a gym, and a room full what she thought was bottled water. She didn’t bother to ask about that one.

Branch must’ve liked to talk about himself and his collection over the years, because once she questioned the sight of a firefly buzzing around he was non-stop chat factory, spouting facts about what temperature of water roses prefer and the perfect time to look for blueberries in the summer.

Speaking of summer and the seasons, as her body oh so _helpfully_ reminded her, it seemed like it was getting to him. Despite his air of confidence that he appeared to live in, there was a faint burn of color on his face, and he kept having to readjust his shorts when he thought she was preoccupied with something else.

She started to question if he noticed that she did, because if she stared at him with an amused smile for more than three seconds, he started to get shifty-eyed, his run-on sentences would stick in his throat, and the color tinting his face would become prominent enough for her to see.

Purple. And a nice shade of it too.

“Are you okay?” she blurted after he had asked her to sit down on another chair. She couldn’t help but ask, her moral compass had demanded her of it. And besides, she was Poppy, she was everything but subtle.

“Excuse me?” his back was to her; he was reaching for one of his salves, probably for her leg.

“Are you okay?” she repeated, when he turned to face her with a jar of cream colored substance. Her head unhelpfully supplied the thought of what it looked like and she blinked, averting her eyes to her dress. She shimmied her hips in a signal. “Are you okay?”

He still didn’t understand what she was trying to convey, and she pinched the bridge of her nose in frustration, and then gesticulated to her lap. “Are you alright?”

“Oh.” His brows furrowed, and he got defensive. “That’s none of your business.”

She nodded, fisting her skirts. “I know, but you don’t look very…comfortable.”

He sighed, and the resulting silence was thick enough that it could be cut with a knife. He continued to glare her down, and she replied with a sympathetic smile, crossing her legs for reasons other than common courtesy.

“I’m fine, princess,” he pressed stiffly, on the verge of growling, and he could swear that he heard a tiny giggle come from her.

He was embarrassed, and she had to say that it was adorable. He probably wanted her gone by then, but she got too curious to leave. When would she ever have the chance to get to know him better?

“Do you think about anyone during the season?” she asked quietly, hands gripping the sides of her chair as she leaned forward with interest.

His eyes blinked towards her before looking away. “Once again, none of your business.”

She squealed, jumping out of her chair and knocking it down before tackling him in a hug, wary of the jar he was holding. “You like someone!” she cheered.

“No, I _don’t_.”

“Yeah, you _do_!”

“I hate everyone,” he pointed out.

“Now I know you’re lying,” she grinned, and detangled herself from him. “Denial is the first stage of acceptance.”

“Poppy,” he groaned. “I spend all my time in here. I don’t go to parties, I don’t do hugs, and I don’t do _happy_ people. What makes you think I could like anyone?”

That got her to calm down, and she thought quietly, much to his amusement. The thought that Poppy, the party-loving trollactually doing something in a controlled manner made him laugh.

“Well,” she began, before a grin started to split her face. “What if you _don’t_ want to admit it to yourself?”

She kept talking before he could even squeeze in a reply. “Let’s say you like someone, and you care about them, a lot. What if you put them so high up on a pedestal that you can’t see your own self-worth anymore?”

The princess left him speechless, and she smiled knowingly at his jaw-dropped face. Got him. It didn’t matter if he refused to see it her way, she still had her answer, and she nodded. “You like someone.”

He groaned, and she knew that he had unofficially officially acknowledged her claim. She crossed her arms, evidently satisfied, pulled the chair back up and sat down on it with a grin.

“Fine,” he huffed. “Only one person though.”

Screw the chair. She recoiled from her sitting position with another yell, and didn’t even hear the chair hit the ground as took Branch down for another hug.

“Who are they?” she squealed. “No, wait, don’t tell me. Do I know them? What do they look like? How long have you known that you liked them?”

Branch let the girl above him babble away with her incessant questions, choosing instead to try and worm his way from the princess. It was in vain. Whatever she ate at those parties worked on her, and he couldn’t escape her interrogation. What would make her shut up, though? Currently he was too bothered by the season to actually do something to get her off, and he just let her speech drown into an inconsistent drone.

But she was so close, and she was talking to him without the strain of his rejection of an invitation, and if he just lifted his head—

The princess blinked when his lips pressed against hers in the faintest touch, and when they parted, she pulled back and pointed at herself.

“ _Me_ ,” she whispered, and he sighed, nodding.

She retreated into a sitting position, thinking, and he sat up, tired. He didn’t really care of what she was going to think. Poppy was nice, but there was no way that she’d reciprocate. It was inevitable. Things didn’t happen like that, and he waited patiently for her answer while ardently ignoring the beating of his heart.

“Well,” she began shyly, fiddling with the hem of her dress. “I thought you didn’t like anyone before, so I tried to forget about it, but,” she smiled coyly, “I don’t think I can with _that_.”

She pulled him into another kiss, and it was definitely less chaste than the last. His hands found lodging in her waist, and her arms claimed purchase of his shoulders. Her hands took hungry fistfuls of his hair as she was pressed into the wall, and a hand rose to hold her cheek, kissing her fervently.

She gasped when he started to kiss her neck, and her breath released in a low groan, eyes squeezing shut in rapture, clinging to his neck as he made a circuit from her shoulder to her cheek.

Somehow, as they were lost to the tango of lips and hands, they stumbled into his room, collapsed onto his bed, and lost themselves in each other.

Her dress came down with a simple flick, giving him a generous view of the soft expanse of skin he could work with, and he was amused with the numerous amount of skirts it needed.

“What’s with the dress?” he teased as she removed his vest. “Being mysterious?”

“Please,” she laughed, crimson burning her face, “I don’t wear it to be mysterious, I love this dress.”

Poppy was shy. There was no doubt about it, so when her dress was gone, she couldn’t help but look away and cover herself protectively in a little ball. He sat down next to her, just as bare as she was, and told her that they didn’t need to continue if she didn’t want to, and that came with a quick reaction.

She had told that it was something she wanted, but that she had no idea what she was doing, and was worried that she might mess something up. With a slight smile, he asked her about the last time she was worried about something that didn’t concern party favors. With a flush of scarlet and a grin, she recalled how she wasn’t.

They started off slow, as they weresupposed to. They had time, and there was no rush. They found out things about themselves that they didn’t even know existed. Branch’s ears weren’t just sensitive to sound. They reacted whenever she supplied a gentle touch to them, resulting in a groan, and his ears flicking away from her fingers.

Branch had a well-known scar on his left hand from a brawl with a long leg spider. While his hand wasn’t overly damaged; only a few unconventional twitches of his fingers, it proved to be useful when seeking out the pink princess’s weaknesses. He found that she was just as sensitive to physical contact as he was.

She was warm. And slick. And _smooth_. So much so that his fingers slithered over her pearl like a thrashing livewire, and her subsequent arch faded into pleasure-filled sighs that were her only signs of life.Her first quota ever reached was with herself, but there, with him, she took the crash that claimed her and detonated around his nimble fingers with a whine.

When she blinked back to reality,he was sitting back, staring at the product of her ecstasy on his fingers with mild interest.

“You had strawberries for breakfast today,” he observed after a careful whiff. “And pineapple.”

“How…can you tell?” she asked breathlessly, still spent from herhigh.

“Strawberry doesn’t lie,” he dismissed, and then noticed _her_ staring. “Can I help you?”

“Yes,” she said with a sly smirk, “as a matter of fact, you can.” To appear bold, she grabbed his arm and brought him closer to her. A caress verbally silenced his insecurities, and he tried to remain quiet as she tested his own limitations.

Male bits were weird, Poppy decided. And _long_. And so much more affected by the elements than she was. In only forty-three seconds she had him at her mercy, despite the fact that she had no collection of what she was actually doing to him. She had figured that since he liked to be alone, he was starved from touch, but not so much so that one swipe of her hand gave him asthma. Currently, limp, was something he was _not_.

“Like this?” she asked, tilting her head to side. His hand was jittery when it came forward to adjust her own, squeezing where pressure needed to be applied.

“Jus’ like tha’,” he slurred, head lolling back from overstimulation, and in no time at all, his pleasure became tangible, and spilled onto her hands.He was the kind of person who only had one or two limits tucked inside him, but since Poppy was always a glutton for affection; she had several that would dissolve into an endless wave of euphoria that she liked so much.

Their first time was awkward and uncoordinated and clumsy. They had no idea of what they were doing, only that they knew that they wanted it, and it shocked him to find out that yes, it actually _hurt_ her, even with the slow pace he had acquired.

It wasn’t so much as pain, more like a nagging discomfort, or a cramp, and it didn’t disappear for the following few minutes. She never felt so _full_.

But, to compensate for the pain, he set out to make sure she would enjoy their interlude, and by the time she had finished,she was panting heavily, and her back arched off the bed as she rode out that long, rolling climax that left her withrubbery limbs and breathy mewls.

She was still shaking when he withdrew from her and crushed her to his chest, giving her the first (or was it second?) hug she had ever gotten from him.

“Are you okay?” he asked, genuinely worried, pulling her close enough to look into her eyes. “I’m so sorry; I didn’t know that it would hurt you.”

“Hm?” Poppy’s voice after she was satiated was a drug. It was hard to describe, but it was timid and soft and beautiful as all get out, and he couldn’t help but adore it.

Instinctively, she curled into his embrace, and assured him with a kiss on his cheek.

“It’s fine. Queen Anne’s Lace can’t solve everything.”

“You take it?”

“I always do,” she admitted. “Out of caution.”

He snorted. “It sure doesn’t do anything about the talking.”

“Excuse me, but I believe to recall you talking the whole time you were on me! I couldn’t tell if we were having sex or a conversation.”

“Pretty sure that was you.”

“Hush, you sap. Now go to sleep.”

He complied, and a part of him fell in love with her overnight.

The next day, nothing changed. She left his house like how she normally would, and surprisingly, the urges and pressure that formally emitted from the apex of her legs had faded. She had no problems sleeping the next night, and she made sure to visit him the next day.

Whenever her friends questioned her motives, she would dismiss it with a smile, saying that it was progress at getting him happy, and they left her alone. In all actuality, he didn’t get his colors back, nor did he sing, but he was a little calmer when she was around, and didn’t outright smash her invitations, just vehemently declined them and took them home.

It wasn’t ‘till her twentieth birthday when he confessed that he loved her. With a squeal, she hugged him and declared that she did, too. They carried out their relationship in secret, and no one questioned her when she left his home a little happier than usual.

But _she_ did when she found out that she had forgotten to take her contraceptives.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> poppy you exuberant dumbass


	2. On the Clock

Spring was slowly coming to a close. The amount of people who magically disappeared in the forest diminished. The number of waiting parents increased. It only took them a short amount of time to decide on having children.

It took her three years. And it was a child she never asked for.

For three straight years, on separate occasions, she had spent multiple nights at his home, in his room, on his bed. For three straight years she carried out a secret relationship with the grump. For three straight years, she'd never forgotten to take something prior.

Until now.

She decided that sitting idly was too much for her head to take all at once, so she paced around her empty room, revolving from worrying strands of her hair to glancing down at her midsection every other five seconds. There was no change.

Correction, there was no physically _observable_ change. For all she knew, the cells swimming around inside her could be having a dance party.

Judging by the steady changes in her schedule and the tiny shifts in her abdomen, she suspected the probable. Groaning at her inability to think, she sat on the edge of her mattress, toying with the hem of the sheets, steadying her breathing.

What was she thinking? Why hadn't she taken something? One minute they were enjoying a walk in the forest, and the next, she was splayed across his lap, his hips rolling, making her scream.

Poppy belittled herself, one hand taking purchase into her hair, the other gripping the fabric of her dress, staring at the contours of the floor with wide eyes. What was he going to say? What was she going to do? There was no way she could hide the baby, everyone would ask why an extra pod had bloomed, and questions would arise the second she claimed it as hers.

There was no way she could lie. It would come back and stab her in the back. Besides, why would she live the rest of her life paranoid about what everyone thought of her? But what was she to do?

This was her baby—no, it was _their_ baby, whether he chose them or not, something she hoped was the former. Was she even going to make a good parental figure?

She sighed, palming her stomach before peering out of her window. Queen Anne's lace really didn't solve everything.

* * *

"Hey, Creek? Can I...ask you somethin'?"

Poppy tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, and smoothed her dress over her stomach, internally pleading for him not to spontaneously point at her tummy in dramatic fashion and yell "Baby!" like it was a curse. But, of course, since seeds were just about the size of a troll's palm, they were unnoticeable to the naked eye.

"Of course!" he chirped, light and airy, and gestured for her to sit down on the rock next to him. She complied, keeping her hands on her knees in order to refrain from patting her stomach. She needed to break that habit. It'd only been, what, half a week into her pregnancy?

He noticed her look and spoke up first, laying a hand on her shoulder. "Is everything alright?"

She smiled up at him, silently thanking him, before releasing a sigh. Tilting her head just a tad, she looked up at the setting sun. The night was approaching, and with it, so would her decision.

She remained silent for a long while, occasionally kicking her feet at the greeting of a breeze, or closing her eyes and soaking up the few rays of the day left.

She sighed. "Not really. I gots a question to ask you...I have this friend, right?" He nodded as she continued. "And I want to tell them something, but I don't want to ruin our...our friendship."

She willed the blood in her veins to stop the flow to her face. Her and Branch's relationship wasn't exactly a burst of friendliness. It actually started because neither of them could keep their hormones in check and fell into step with each other along the way. Call it what you will.

"Where in the world did Poppy go?" he teased, a warm hand on her back. "You're normally not the one to keep secrets."

"I know, I know,'' she fussed. "It's just that...'s just that I wanna tell them but at the same time I don't and I don't wanna make 'em upset or—!"

Creek removed his finger from her lips, but let it hover, insisting that she remain silent. Then, with the same hand, he tipped her chin and looked into her eyes.

"I think," he began slowly, "that you should do what's right."

"But what about—!"

"Princess," he began gently, "you should tell them. You wouldn't want them to find out later on, would you?"

A click, and she raised her hand to massage her forehead. Dummy. She should just go talk to him.

"I..." She trailed off, but she knew that he already knew that she understood what she had to do; no ifs ands or buts about it. She sighed, hopping delicately off of the stone.

"Thanks," she said softly, smiling wearily. He gave her a peppy grin in return, fondly tapped her nose, and waved her goodbye as she set off to find her partner.

* * *

Whatever force that decided that your brain would start sending signals to your heart whenever you were going through a nerve-racking experience needed to be kicked off of the deity table. The body was supposed to be centered around keeping you safe, not providing you with shaking limbs when you needed it the least.

Kneeling in front of the peephole probably wasn't such a good idea, so she stood instead, keeping her hand up, inches from the stone, looking like an idiot.

Poppy sighed, tapping her foot to stop it from shaking. How was she going to approach this? Just breeze through his home, crack her knuckles and casually mention that something was growing inside of her?

Two weeks. In just two weeks she'd have a baby. She was already four days in! Where was she going to find the time to tell the rest of her kingdom about it? How would her friends take it, especially when they'd find out that Branch had a part in the child's creation?

She could feel the short bursts of air push through her lips, and feel the fear pool into her stomach. Furrowing her brows, she knocked on the stone, hoping that her adrenaline would last long enough.

A second passed. Two. She was already in front of the mat when she heard her name.

"Let me in...I need to tell you something."

Adrenaline, folks, was a stupid thing to rely on. That's the body's way of keeping you alive. It won't give you the strength to perform a sweep kick without any prior experience, it actually just tires you out.

She could feel hers sap the second she was underground. Something small and bright whizzed past her, but returned to snuggle against her face. She recognized the bug immediately. "Hey, waterfall."

She only got the name when he explained to her that firefly was the opposite of waterfall. Irony's a killer.

Poppy never knew when the silence had ever gotten so tense between them. Through their relationship, they were always close. An arm around the others waist or hooked around their neck, or just one hand grasping the other.

But now, riddled with worry, she didn't reach in for a hug, and because of that, since she was usually the one to initiate touch, he didn't crush her to his chest. They simply walked through the burrow without any physical contact. She kept a hand on her stomach.

"Are you okay?" he asked, laying a hand on her shoulder. She tensed in just the tiniest of tads, but knew he could sense it.

"Me? Oh, yeah, I'm fine." _Except for the fact that I'm pregnant with your baby and I have no idea how to tell you._

"You're lying,"  he pointed out, a tiny smile curving his lips.  "You're voice's cracking."

"It doesn't crack!" she insisted, voice cracking. The outburst felt like when they had first met, always keeping up with the banter and her lack of subtlety.

"Sure, sure," he waved it off, his grin widening at her pout. "So, what's this all about?"

"Branch..." She took a deep breath. He was different now. Not happy and dancing and singing, but he smiled more often, and he laughed too, and was maybe-kinda-sorta lenient to her having parties, just if she kept the music to a reasonable volume.

Who was she to change that about him? He seemed less self-loathing and a little more self-loving. He had shown her all of the invitations that he'd kept over the years. He had told her about his grandmother, she knew why he was so grey all the time. He actually thought that her death was his fault. Was she really going to bring him back to that kind of feeling?

Something warm and wet knotted at the corner of her eyes, and overflowed onto her face. Stumbling, she crashed onto a surprised Branch and began to cry, telling him everything.

* * *

Poppy didn't cry. Poppy never cried. Not even at all the invitations he seemingly destroyed, not at the fact that he never came to any of her parties, nor at his grandmother's death. She was stable like that.

But now she did cry, and her words, whatever that was bothering her, spilled from her lips in an incoherent jumble. The only words he could make out was that she was—

"What?"

"IknowIshould'vetoldyousoonerandIreallywantedtobutIwasjustscaredofwhatyouweregoingtosayandIam _sosorry_ —!"

"Hang on!" he demanded, shaking her shoulders in an effort to get her to calm down. She didn't, and they shook on their own accord, heaving with each poorly-muffled sob.

He glanced at her stomach, suddenly understanding why she kept a hand over it when she thought he wasn't looking. "You're..."

She didn't have to say it, and just nodded her head, deflating, waiting.

He should be angry. He should be upset with her. He should be demanding how something like this could have happened, why she forgot to take her contraceptives in the first place, but what use would that bring? It'd only make her cry harder, and it wasn't like it was something she asked for. He wasn't the pregnant person here.

He tried to put himself in her shoes, worried, filled with anxiety, constantly thinking about what the future would hold. That was him every day, but now factor _her_ in. Now living with no idea how things like this goes, how pods were made, and on top of that, trying to hide it from everyone and still trying to be the happy, positive Poppy that everyone knew and loved.

Judging from her standpoint, as her sobbing steadily began to increase with each minute of silence that passed, she already had enough on her hands. How would yelling at her fix anything? It'd only drive her away, and that might lead to something unsavory happening to her and their baby.

"How far in are you?"

She sniffed, "Four days."

So, she spent four days worrying over something that they could handle together. The last thing he wanted was for her to turn into him. That wasn't the Poppy he knew.

"C'mere," he offered gently, pulling her into a hug. She blinked, and then scrambled into his arms, crying once more.

She managed a shaky breath, tiny drops of tears tipping form her eyes and dotting onto his skin. "I'm so sorry," she apologized profusely. "I didn't know this would happen, I shouldn't've been so forgetful, I—!"

"Shoosh," he insisted, cradling her. "You've got nothing to apologize for."

If he actually made her terrified enough to keep something from him, he needed to be the one doing so, not her.

And so, he did, carrying her to his room despite her protests and making a cup of her favorite tea (no sugar, just honey!) appear in her hands, brushing the cowlicks of her hair out her eyes when she fell asleep.

"I love you," she mumbled, hugging him tight. He gave her a tiny smile, and pressed a kiss onto her forehead.

"I love you too."

* * *

"Hey, uh, Creek?"

It was early in the morning, just a week into her pregnancy. Branch made sure to take care of her, and had actually started to fall in love with the baby, kissing her stomach when he got the chance, asking her what she'd name them, even going so far as to knit something for the occasion. Slowly, she started to fall for them, too.

She walked over to the purple troll, swathed in a thick blue blanket to prevent the morning chill, and sat down next to him heavily, patting the almost unnoticeable bulge in her tummy. Odd, normally a baby wasn't this big.

"Princess?"

She didn't look at him, but smiled at the clouds in the sky, framing the rise of the sun. She decided that the lavender the sky was painting was a beautiful color.

"Thanks," she repeated from only a few days ago, and he didn't even have to ask what for.

"No problem," he replied, giving her one of his big smiles, and then watched the sun rise along with her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :D


	3. Falsified Osmosis

"Hey, dude." Poppy was quick to say when she saw him the next day, still donning her blue blanket Branch made for her. Sometimes she'd bring it over herself and become engulfed in the smell of his home. Underground didn't really provide a variety of scents to work with, so his bunker'd always smell like the Earth after a downpour.

Do you ever just walk outside and take a deep breath of the air after a good rain? No? You should. It's wonderful.

"Princess?" Creek asked, coming forth to sit next to her on what she declared was their 'Sunshine Rock'. One of her favorite parts of the stone was to swing her legs over the edge and rock them back and forth.

"Aw, c'mon Creek," She chuckled. "It's just Poppy!"

"What kind of name is Just Poppy?"

An amused smile slipped onto her face. "Okay, I'll give you that one."

She sat down heavily, frowning for only a fraction of a nanosecond. Something was wrong. Usually a rainbow troll wouldn't be so hefty. Branch was rainbow, he had told her so, so there was no way that the baby could be anything else.

_Unless she was_ _—_

She groaned, doubling over when she felt a shift and Creek immediately took notice, a warm hand on her back. Already? Now? Couldn't the baby wait until she was in an inconspicuous position?

Poppy was a total lightweight when it came to anything. Ice cream? Dead. Pancakes? Gone. Anything remotely alcoholic? Ascended to live with the angels in all their heavenly glory.

Now there was something living inside of her that had no idea that she was so easily prone to sickness. Great. This was just perfect! The baby had been moving plenty alright, always when she didn't need the reminder right then and there. She was just trying to enjoy the sunrise with one of her closest friends, that was no reason for the baby to be so excited. Why didn't they start moving while she was walking over here?

But the most important question; how long was she supposed to hide the fact that she was pregnant? Her stomach was just barely noticeable, a tiny bump that could be passed off as too much sugar. Physical observations weren't one of her problems. What was she going to do when the epiphyte needed to grow?

"Poppy?" Creek inquired, brows furrowed in worry. "Are you alright? This is the third time this weekend."

In just eight more days she'd pass the seed. And then she would have to tell _everyone_.

"I'm fine, Creek," she groaned out her standard answer, one she'd been using for the past two days, and then delicately helped herself off the stone, doubling over. "I'm fine. It's just something I ate."

That was an excellent segue. "So I'll jus' go over to Branch's place. He's bound to have something."

"Are you sure?" He hopped off of the rock and kept a hand on her shoulder, worriedly looking her over. "I don't think Branch'll have what you need, you might need to see Doctor Plum."

"No! No, I'm fine. I just...I gotta go." She didn't look into his eyes. She already knew he was hurt, and was worried about her.

She didn't know how long her pregnancy would be have to be kept secret. Awkwardly, she slowly stood upright and began to shuffle away from the conversation. She needed to talk to Branch. Surely he'd know how hard it'd be to hide the seed, right?

Unless he pulled a Branch and began some sort of master plan that involved a list of several unnecessary things that they could avoid if they'd just come clean about everything.

Knowing him, that would not be the case.

Perfect. Today was just _fantastic_.

* * *

She didn't even need to say her name. Apparently he remembered the little knock sequence she'd do whenever she was over for a visit. He just threw open the trapdoor and immediately caught her when she jumped in.

"G'mornin'," she said when he adjusted her in his arms. He gave her a small smile, and kissed her forehead.

"Good morning to you too," he replied, and then promptly blew a raspberry onto her neck. She squealed, laughing, trying to wriggle her way out of his grasp, and he just carried her to his room.

When he laid her on his bed, she took a fistful of blankets and wrapped herself in the smell of the Earth, sighing contently.

"So what brings you?" Branch asked, hooking a loop of vines on a mount on the wall before settling his hands on his hips. "Stomach ache? Fever?"

Her head popped out from the blankets. "Nah, 'M fine, I just wanted to see you."

He cocked an eyebrow. "Really now?"

She pouted. "Fine." She hopped off the bed. "I want to talk to you about the baby."

"What about them?"

"I can't decide on whether we tell everyone, or try to hide them. I mean, you've seen pods, I've seen pods, we both know how big they get, right? How're we supposed to keep them a secret? How are we going to tell everyone?"

Branch had that sly look in his eyes again, that one where he claimed he was only 'thinking.' She didn't need to wait for his response.

"Alright," he grinned and rubbed his hands together. "So, after we get the seeds, we'll head out at the middle of night and apply them on one of the nearby trees. Then we'll take a bunch of moss and vines and we'll—!"

She knew she wasn't going to like his plan. What was the point of using moss to hide the pods if they could just grow it on the main tree everyone else uses? Boom, _another_ reason why they should just tell everyone about the baby. How were they supposed to grow a pod without being seen, and then expected to live with their child discreetly?

"Yeah, no." She dismissed, shaking her head. "That's gonna be impossible. We can't just grow the baby in secret!"

"Why not? Look, I know it's not a full proof plan yet, but—!"

"Branch." Poppy grasped his shoulders, and looked into his eyes. "What're we gonna do when the baby comes? What if someone finds them on accident? What then?"

He blinked, and she already knew he hadn't planned that far.

"We have to tell them," she sighed. "What other choice do we have?"

Branch didn't need to say it out loud. He just brought her into a hug, and she got her answer.

* * *

Trolls seeds were tiny, able to fit in the palm of their hands, which meant they were relatively easy to pass. To ensure that Poppy wouldn't have to be seen under public view when her time came, she spent the last three days of her term at Branch's place, and he remained with her, completely cut off from the outside until the seeds arrived.

To her surprise, it was only when they were trying to sleep. Given no prior knowledge about birthing seeds, it hit her at full force when she felt something slip below her waist.

He awoke when she did, always the light sleeper, and noticed her discomfort. Her breathing was off, her eyes scrunched close in concentration, and her fists were clenched tightly around the blankets—the baby was coming.

Immediately he hopped off the bed and rushed to retrieve towels for her, lifting her dress enough to get a view of the damage. Something round and smooth and turning blue was slowly pushing its way between her legs, and within only a few minutes, the tiny thing slipped onto his palm.

It looked like it could be a gem, but felt malleable enough to be organic. Of course, there was no way to tell what color it was now, since it was dripping with the colors of her blood.

Her breathing, once stabilized when the seed was passed, hitched, and picked up speed. Something was wrong, and her eyes widened.

"Two," she breathed, and suddenly her pregnancy's weight made sense. "Two— _twins_!"

"What?"

A groan made her shiver, and she shifted her hips in a way that made a second seed jut from her lower lips. In only a minute, the epiphyte succumbed to gravity and fell onto the towel.

Poppy took a shuddering breath, opening and closing her legs, attempting to get used to feeling so empty. When her heart stopped beating out of her chest, she slowly sat up, and Branch carefully laid the seeds into her hand. They were smooth and round, one blue and the other a shade of lavender, the hue the sky painted on her morning rounds with Creek.

Oh, gosh. Creek. How was he going to take this? How were her friends going to take it? She had known Creek since she could form complete coherent sentences; there was never a time in which he was upset with her. He was the calmest troll she had ever known, it was understandable to assume that he'd understand.

Her worries quelled. If Creek would understand, then her friends would, too. Hopefully. Geez, what did she do that made her so prone to worrying about what everyone thought?

Something warm poured onto her hand, and she nearly jumped before realizing it was Branch with an un of water. Silently, she allowed him to pour a small amount on a corner of the towel, and then carefully, she began to dab the blood off of the seeds.

When she got a generous amount of it away, she noticed that the seemingly blue seed wasn't blue at all. It was pink at the top, and then melted into blue at the bottom. The same could be said for the other seed, except if you switched the colors, so that blue was on top, and pink was on the bottom.

 _Twins_. Last she checked, her family history only had a sprinkling of the them, and they were considered hard to accomplish. Satin and Chenille were a part of only a small portion of twins that resided in the valley.

She scooped them up and gave the blue-pink one to Branch, who held it gingerly and turned it around in his hands.

"So..." Her voice broke the silence. "What would you name your daughter?"

A troll's custom was that the mother named her son and that the father named his daughter. It wasn't just a royalty thing.

"...Brooke. You?"

She smiled, and wiped her thumb across the surface of her seed. "Puzzle."

* * *

The only time Branch had ever seen Poppy nervous was during coupling. Now, they were upon a brightly colored mushroom with an open view to the public, the blue-pink seed in one of his hands, and the pink-blue one in hers.

Of course, it took a little while for her to be able to get used to being devoid of them, but Poppy was back on her feet faster than you could say "Guacamole cinnamon twist!"

Which meant that she was able to tell everyone about their children. Nothing he wasn't against, per se, it was really the fact that he had gotten the princess pregnant without, y'know, actually courting her and that her father was _standing right behind him._

Oh and also because he was outside in broad daylight without no cover so everyone could see every inch of him _and_ look him in the eyes _and_ try to get close to him. Trolls will be trolls. And that was something he hated.

Her hand claimed his and gave him a reassuring squeeze, a contrast to the insistent anxiety that made him quake. How was she able to look focused? Wasn't she just as terrified as he was?

"Attention!" The princess called, "May I have your attention please!"

People within earshot turned and headed in the direction of her voice. Usually when Poppy had something to proclaim, she would do so in an exuberant manner, accented with the beat of her cowbell, but now she was doing the unexpected; quietly waiting for everyone to simmer down while standing next to—Branch?

"Um," she faltered, curling and uncurling her fist in quick succession. This was a sensitive subject that she had to approach tentatively, not just pull a Poppy and spout about the seeds' night of conception in _graphic_ _detail_. Just start off small.

"I'm having a baby," she started slowly, then reached for Branch's seed and displayed them to the crowd. "Actually, two."

The couple did not expect such a warm reaction. Children in the valley were always wanted, and it was wonderful to see that their princess had chosen someone to be there king. Girl knew what she wanted.

But of course, they were the questions on why she didn't tell them sooner and what she was going to name them and—

"Who's the lucky guy?" Karma asked, and Poppy tried to calm the tattoo of her heartbeat. This was the hard part.

"He's, um," she mumbled and gave a tiny tug on Branch's arm. "Standing right next to me."

Not everyone was up for it, since everyone knew who the grump was. Some were all in, because Poppy was a good judge of character, and if he made her happy, then they were fine with it.

Some had a few issues, mainly on how he had treated the princess, but took it as a challenge to see how long he could tolerate being with them more often. And there were a handful who did not take kindly to it at all, one that may or may not have included a green-haired troll still upset about the murder of her husband. Poppy didn't bother to look for her friends reactions.

But all of those paled in comparison when Poppy's father came around, looked expectantly between the two, narrowed in on Poppy's eyes and promptly _scooped Branch up in a hug._

She stared at both of them, and Branch was just as bewildered as she was. What parallel universe was she living in?

"So you've decided to court Poppy," the king said, putting Branch down and leaving a hand on his shoulder.

"Is that a bad thing?" Branch asked, side-eyeing Poppy for help. The king chuckled heartily, and patted Branch on the back.

"Not at all, m'boy. Not at all."

* * *

"What'd you do to get dad so chummy with you?" Poppy asked as they walked towards his home, thanking people for the congratulations they sent on their way.

"I have no idea. I mean, I knew him a little when I was kid, after my grandma...I didn't think he'd be so happy with me now."

"Well I'm glad. At least he's not upset, right?" Poppy shrugged, rubbing her thumb over her pink-blue seed. "That's a plus."

"A heck of a god one too. Your friends mad at me, and I'm fine. Your dad, and I'm a goner."

Poppy laughed, but it came to an abrupt halt. Her friends, all of her friends had magically materialized in front of her. Leading them was Suki.

"Girl," she began, arms akimbo, "you've got lots of explainin' t'do."

"Oh, boy." Poppy huffed, and then handed the seeds to Branch. This would take some time, and she knew that he wasn't a fan of her friends. It would be easier to explain if he didn't get into an argument with them every seven seconds. "I'll meet you back at home, m'kay?"

"...Okay," he replied hesitantly, and the last thing anyone expected him to do was hug her. All the eyes of the group widened.

It only lasted for a moment though, and she escorted her friends somewhere a tad more private.

"Alright," Poppy sighed, tapping her foot. Dad 's positive reaction gave her confidence, and she felt like she could take whatever they could throw at her, and that, in this case, could be _anything_. "Go ahead."

"Is this why you asked me about the mating season?" Guy asked, a twinkle in his eye. "So you could go bang the grump?"

"Wha-I- _No_!" Confidence? What confidence? Poppy's face couldn't turn a brighter shade of red. That was purely for educational reasons! And curiosity! And because she wanted to know where her friends would disappear off to during hug time!

"I dunno, princess," Satin drawled, hands on her hips, orbiting Poppy. "It sure sounds  like it."

"Guys, c'mon, be serious! What are you trying to tell me?"

"We're asking you why you didn't tell us!" Chenille spouted, hands clasped. "Didn't you think we'd want to know?"

Poppy pinched the bridge of her nose, trying to calm the haze of red about her face. "Of course I did, but I was scared of what you guys were going to say!"

"Why?" Chen asked, head cocked to the side.

"Um? Because, oh, I dunno, Branch is the _father_? I thought you guys didn't like him!"

"Sweetheart," Creek started. "There _is_ a difference between us liking him and him liking us. You know that, right?"

"I..."

"Poppy," Suki sighed. "We've done a whole buncha stuff. You tried to make to make cheese into an in ice cream flavor, I thought that disco was coming back, we've all done crazy things."

"Where are you going with this...?"

Suki exchanged looks with her surrounding friends. "Does he make you happy?"

" _Yes_." Poppy answered without fail.

"Then that's all we need to hear." Suki smiled, and the group of friends engulfed her in a hug. Poppy sighed in relief, and clutched them closer, though someone's hug wasn't as present as she was used to.

* * *

"So, you're having twins?"

"Mm-hm. Is that okay?"

"Do you think it's okay?"

"Creek, please. I'm being serious. Enough with the philosophy stuff, I wanna know how it makes _you_ feel."

Glad that the seeds departure meant more Sunshine Rock time with Creek, Poppy had laid on the rock with her hands behind her head, beckoning Creek to join her.

He did so without a second thought, offering her one of his big smiles. Apparently Suki's confrontation wasn't enough, because he was quizzing her on her term. Not that it was a bad thing, of course, it was just that Creek's guru shtick was getting old. How did this really effect him?

"Princess," he replied coolly, "I think it's wonderful."

She turned on her side, arching a brow. "Really?"

"Of course I do. This is a big turning point for you. Who would I be if I weren't here to support you?"

"Dork," she smiled, laying back on her back. "Thanks."

"No problem."

They laid there, watching the sunrise, and it took Poppy approximately two seconds to realize that he hadn't said her name throughout the whole exchange.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> creek you dickhead what the fuck man
> 
> yeah he's gonna be like this for a looooong time


	4. Like Petals From a Rose

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sweet stars above guys it'S HAPPENING

Troll seeds, like any other variety of seeds, had a time limit, usually a little over a fortnight. Before then, pods were woven with fronds and leaves, wrapping loosely around the seed before tightening up the knots. That way, as the seed grew, the leaves it surpassed would harmlessly shed from its cargo.

But...if the seeds weren't planted before their deadline, they shrivel up into husks, and lose their color before turning to dust.

Which was why it was encouraged to speak up about your pregnancy so that others know and can remind you periodically to plant the epiphyte. In their little village, every child was welcome.

Branch, ever the paranoid hermit, was eager to get the seeds onto the main tree as soon as possible, and Poppy, ever the optimistic, agreed. Everyone loved their princess, but she could be quite forgetful if not prompted of what she needed to complete.

So, with Satin and Chenille helping them, they stitched together the children's pods, loose enough for them to crawl out of, but thick enough to keep them warm, and safe.

The central tree, used mostly for harboring seeds, was far from Branch's home, since he lived on the outskirts of the village. His kids, sheltered safely, would be safe in the tree. No one really headed over there with mind to disturb the growing children, and they wouldn't dare to mess with the pod carrying the princess's offspring.

Right?

But then again, this was their generation's first princess. Who knows what trolls might've done to the pods carrying offspring back at the troll tree? What if there were some that didn't approve of the royal family's choices? None of the trolls seemed jazzed that Branch, the grumpy bridge troll that literally mocked Poppy for her bubbly personality, was going to be king! _Their_ king, no less!

What was he to do? Those were his kids! What if—

— _What if the Bergens finally caught up to them?_

Yeah, nuh-uh, no way. No one was going to get to his babies until they went through him. He was going to live in that tree if he had to.

Turns out, he did.

The night was quiet. The lights in the village were off, waning the light pollution and making the stars glimmer. An odd thought came into Branch's head as he saw the sky's pretty receding shade of lavender. He should show Poppy how to paint.

He was perched below the tree limb from which the children hung, their swathes of green gently swaying in the wind. He pulled the blanket hybrid closer to him, recalling the twins' look of surprise when he introduced them to his cotton-wool blanket. Needless to say, they were impressed.

He peered up at the pods, wanting to know and understand what kind of work was being done in there. From seeds and leaves to flesh and blood. Not something you'd expect every day.

What would they look like? What would they be like? Would one of them look more like Poppy? Would the other look like him?

There was only a tiny difference in the two habitats. One had a brightly colored leaf sticking from the top. That one was the pink-blue seed. The other was the blue-pink one, and held a teensy, white, feather.

Would they have color? Would they be dull? Fraternal? Maternal?

Branch sighed, leaning against the trunk of the tree. Poppy was at his home, sleeping, doing that thing where she'd somehow end up sleeping in his hair and snore obnoxiously.

Would they like music? Would they like to dance, or write?

Inconveniently, the Seed Tree was also located next to the homes of other Trolls, those of which also had children and wanted to move to be in closer proximity. So far, Branch was the only nut job that'd risk getting hypothermia instead of staying inside like everyone else.

Then again, when would the grey grump ever fit in? Let 'em look. If they ask, he'll let them know that he was going to stay with his babies until he could take them home with them.

Branch yawned, trying to distract himself with the streaks of black and blue and purple. The stars always had to be the most intriguing when you were too preoccupied to notice them.

He glanced over to the pods for the umpteenth time, being careful to only look and repressing the urge to reach over and touch them. He had no experience with pods, but he didn't want to accidentally break them and make them vulnerable to the cold.

Soon, and very soon would he get to see them. As much as he concealed his joy, he couldn't help but be excited. They were his kids! And they were going to be so small and wriggly and tiny and adorable and Poppy'd be there too with a big ol' smile on her face—

Yeah. Everthing'd be fine once they arrived.

Speaking of which, someone did arrive.

In the wee hours of the morning, when Branch was weaving a small ball of leaves together to quell his boredom, the weight of the tree limb he rested on increased.

His eyes didn't widen. His hands didn't cease in their movement. A second passed, two, and he took a slow, relaxing breath.

The weight remained, and there was a tentative step forward. Definitely not Poppy, she never got up this early. Not Biggie, not Guy, and with the twins there'd be two footsteps at once. Smidge and Fuzzy wouldn't've even made a sound large enough for him to detect.

He knew who that left.

"Good morning," carefully said the purple-colored troll before coming over to sit down next to him.

Creek had actually been one of the nicest trolls to Branch and Poppy since the announcement of the children. He congratulated them personally on the upcoming babies, and wasn't the douche that Branch always saw for once.

So...he decided, tentatively, to trust Creek. Only enough for conversations.

Branch hummed, and gave a nod, to show that he was listening.

"Why're you out here?" he asked, curious, and Branch simply gestured to the pods swaying above.

"Ah," Creek replied, nodding in understanding, then nudged Branch's arm. "Are you excited to see them?"

A tiny nod.

"Oh, c'mon, man. Tell me again. Are you excited to see them?"

A sigh. "Yes, Creek. I can't wait."

Creek smiled. "Good!"

"Now here's my question. Why're _you_ awake?"

Laughing slightly, Creek jerked a thumb to the side, and upon a glance, Creek's house was only a wingspan away.

"I wanted to meditate early today," he explained sheepishly, and then looked up to the sky, "Beautiful, isn't it?"

The shade of lavender that'd piqued Branch's curiosity was back, and he had to say, it certainly looked much better next to the pale blue background.

"Mm-hm."

"And then I noticed _you_ were out here, and, well, here we are."

Branch nodded, the raise of his head accented with, "Uh-huh."

Creek must not've been good with names. During the entire ordeal, Branch didn't hear a peep of his.

"Anyway," Creek started, hopping to his feet, "I need to go. Karma asked me to help her out with her animals."

She asked _everyone_ to help her with her animals. Made sense that she'd ask Creek, though, with the level of meditation he'd acquired.

"Right," Branch replied, and Creek delicately hopped off of the tree limb.

"I'll see you later!" Creek said before running off.

"Don't count on it," Branch mumbled, and Creek must've heard it, because the last thing Branch heard from him was an echoing laugh.

...There's something very important that Branch learned over time. How to pretend. Do you ever play make believe? Say you're one way, when you're really the other?

Poppy never learned. But Branch did.

And, apparently, so did Creek.

* * *

Branch was there when the leaves began to move. Everyone was alerted, making a huge circle around the Seed Tree, waiting carefully for Plum Plimsy to arrive.

Poppy, ever subtle, pushed people out of the way and sprinted to the center to the circle before tackling Branch in a hug before peppering him with questions.

Were they okay? What were they? A boy and girl? Two girls? Two boys?

A hushed whisper waved through the crowd when the pod bearing the colorful pod began to wiggle, just slightly, and the couple exchanged a glance before moving under the pods, both arms outstretched.

They dropped like flakes.

They dropped like stars.

And quickly, he fell into Poppy's arms. He was lavender, a pretty shade of it, with pink eyes and blue tipped hair that sunk into pink the closer to the roots.

Only one pod opened. The other remained dormant, except with the occasional shake of the leaves. Carefully, Branch poked the pod, and before he could grow exponentially worried, the other twin popped outta that thing like a cork.

She was smaller than her brother, not marginally, and had blue eyes. _His_ _eyes_ , accompanied with the same color palette as her brother, but her hair was curlier, and her bangs were thicker, nearly concealing her eyes.

Plum Plimsy arrived, gave a once over of the children, and congratulated the two for their healthy, new born children.

The whole village was ecstatic, and buzzed around Branch and Poppy, holding their teeny tiny wriggling children, Puzzle, and Brook.

"Look at 'em!" Satin squealed. "They're so cute!"

Chenille nodded, allowing little Puzzle to grab her finger. "They're literally you two mashed together. Look at their colors!"

Satin giggled. "Pink 'n blue. It fits."

Poppy blinked, and looked down at Puzzle. It did off her, how the kids manage to look similar to one of her friends, but the twins' explanation made sense.

Puzzle began to play with Chenille's hand, and Branch thought she couldn't squeal any higher. Suki materialized next to her, eying the kids before giving Poppy a satisfied grin. Mr. Dinkles was indifferent, Biggie looked like he could (and would!) cry.

Creek approached the kids, shyly, and congratulated the two on them.

"They're beautiful," he complimented. "You're going to be great parents."

Grinning, and juggling Puzzle into the crook of her arm, she gave Creek one of her signature hugs, because if Creek's cool with it, everyone's cool with it. Branch, out of gratitude, nodded at Creek.

He was better at pretending than Branch initially thought.

* * *

Days turned into weeks, weeks turned into months, and months turned into a special day of the year, the anniversary of their freedom from the Bergens.

Puzzle, always the early bid, woke up before the whole family did, and in turn, woke his sister up. He grinned, she blinked, and granted him with one of her tiny smiles. Poppy, excited for the day, plucked her kids out of their crib and twirled them around, eliciting a laugh out of both of them.

"G'morning, my widdle babies!" Poppy said in that trademark high voice parents used with their kids. "How did you sleep?"

Puzzle squealed, and his sister giggled. Poppy took that as a yes.

Brook looked around the room, her gaze scrutinizing. Something was off. Someone was missing.

Poppy laughed. "Aw, don't worry about your dad. He's up gettin' supplies."

Brooke tilted her head.

"Yeah, I dunno, sweetie. Wha'd'ya say we go 'n find him?"

Another squeal from Puzzle and a clap from Brooke was all the confirmation that she needed.

The sun shone a little brighter during the day, and Poppy strolled through the village, the little prince and princess hitching a ride in her hair. It was still morning, but people were waking just a little earlier than normal, waving at Poppy and giving he knowing smiles. They didn't have to ask to know that she had something big planned.

They didn't really end up looking for Branch. He never really had a schedule planned when it came to supplies. Instead, they took a walk around the village, stopping to talk to friends and converse about the huge party she was gonna throw. It was going to be the biggest, loudest, the craziest party ever!

She just hoped Branch would come. Slowly, he'd been gaining just the tiniest bits of color back, just enough to see that he was a nice shade of blue.

She found him near her friends, conversing amiably, not a single supply on him.

Huh. Who suddenly became the conversationalist?

"Good morning," Poppy greeted, and Branch smiled, giving her a quick hug. Brooke, ecstatic to see her dad again, crawled out of Poppy's hair and into his arms.

He laughed, "Was she looking for me again?"

"You know it," Poppy quipped, tousling his hair affectionately. "You ready for the party?"

Branch winced. "I dunno, Poppy. I mean, is it another sleepover? Or a _party_ party?"

"'S a party, of course!" She spouted, retrieving Puzzle and giving him to Chenille per request. She had been wriggling her way into Puzzle's favorite's list since the day he met her.

"It's gonna be the biggest—!"

"The loudest—!"

"The craziest party _ever_!"

Branch nodded. "Riiiiiiiight...then I'm not going."

"Aw, c'mon, Branch! It'll be fu-un!"

"It's going to be loud," he deadpanned. "And cramped, and crazy. No thanks."

"Please?"

"No."

"Pretty please?"

"Stop."

"Wha's the magic word?"

"Now."

"Why not?" Poppy huffed, crossing her arms. "You can't just be cooped up underground all the time! A little fun'll be good for you!"

"Said no doctor ever."

"Branch," she pinned him with her gaze, "I'm being serious. You _need_ to come."

He blinked. "You don't think I'm being serious too? I can hear your parties from miles away Poppy, and I'm pretty sure I'm not the only one who _does_!"

She groaned, pinching the bridge of her nose, oblivious to the worried glances her friends were exchanging. "Puh- _lease_ tell me you're not talking about the Bergens _again_."

"What _else_ could I be talking about?" He pressed, giving Brooke to Satin.

They'd gone over this hundreds of times. When would realize that they were safe?

"Fine, fine, you don't have to go, but I wanna take the twins."

"Yeah, no."

" _What_?"

Branch shook his head, arms akimbo, giving Poppy a matching glare. There was always the chance, no matter how small, the _chance_ that the Bergens would find them. The kids'd be much safer if they were back home.

"They aren't going," he reiterated. "I'm not risking it. They're staying at home."

"Are you _serious_?" Poppy had to ask. "We've been here for twenty years, Branch—two _decades_! If they didn't find us in the past then what makes you think they'll find us now?"

"I dunno, maybe because it'll be loud? And because you always use fireworks? And because you guys are constantly singing?"

"Branch, we sing because we're happy! How many times do I have to say it?"

"They are _not_ going to that party."

"Yes, they _are_!"

"No, they _aren't_!"

She stamped her foot, something immature and unbecoming for the future queen to do, but she did it anyway, because sweet forces above, he wouldn't listen to her!

"When will you get it?" Poppy gripped at her hair before glaring at her beau. "Maybe I want the twins to be happy, Branch!"

Her friends slowly began to step away from the argument, and Satin and Chenille glance at each other, worriedly. Usually Poppy and Branch weren't the ones to argue so much.

"And maybe _I_ don't want them at that party because _I_ _love_ _them_ , Poppy!" His brows furrowed, and something wet pin-pricked in his eyes, and for the first time, they saw him border on crying. "And maybe I don't want you to go because I love _you_ , too!"

"You think I don't _know that_?" Poppy yelled, she _yelled,_ at _Branch_ , about their _kids_ , going to one of her _parties_. "I want them to be safe, and I want them to be happy, but they can't be if you can't stop being so _scared_ of the world and get over your _stupid paranoia_!"

Her glare remained.

For about  less than a nanosecond. You ever know the feeling when you cause your fiancé to lose what color he had?

You shouldn't.

His eyes widened, his lips closed shut, and he stared at her for a full second. Something warm, and wet, spilled down his face, unbidden.

Sweet forces above, she made Branch _cry_.

Unfrozen, suddenly calm, he took the kids into his arms and turned on his heel, stiffly walking away from her, shoulders hunched and focused on the ground.

"Wait," she swallowed. He didn't wait. "Please...Branch, I didn't mean it, I was just...I'm _sorry_!"

Her apologies meant nothing to him. He kept walking, gently stuffing the kids into his hair.

She didn't know how long they'd been arguing until she heard the adamant ring from her hugtime bracelet. She didn't move.

He didn't stop moving, and without missing a beat, flicked the bracelet off his arms and into the nearby bushes.

The sun kept shining, even when he was no more than a speck in the distance.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pops loves Branch, she really does, but she hates that after all that time together he won't at least try to push his paranoia down for his kids. So she blew up. I notice she tends to do that a ton in my stories. 
> 
> Branch's upset because of all people, she's the only person alive (other than Chef) that knows why he's so fucking terrified of those things. He's lost hid grandmother, he can't lose Pops and their kids, too.
> 
> Feel free to hate me next chapter is a flash into the future because i never finished this


	5. Disaccharides

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> MY ONLY FAVORITE CHAPTER WHICH MEANS ITS GOOD AND THE INSPIRATION WAS TAKEN FROM PINES FOREVER BY MIKE INEL THANK YOU AND GOODNIGHT

When Brooke and her brother were small, her mother would take them by the hand, and tell them all about her favorite things. One of those things, something Brooke had looked over, was the soft hue of wisteria that'd paint the sky. Poppy said that whenever she saw it, it reminded her of them, even through her pregnancy.

As a child with a mental capacity strong enough to understand pastel aesthetics and inspirational quotes, she thought that was one of the most beautiful things she had ever heard in her life.

But the idea became ludicrous as Brooke grew through the years. Of course Poppy would be thinking about them. They're her kids. With skin the color of lavender. Seeing it in the sky would naturally trigger her brain into thinking about them.

Brooke's done her homework. She's read the books. She knows what she's doing. Superficial, magical, wonderful things like that didn't happen to people like her.

* * *

"Puzzle?"

Her voice is tentative. Her voice is small. It breaks the serenity. That's to be expected if you know the little princess as well as her brother does. They're under a thick daisy to avoid the summer glare of the sun, and he's next to her, gripping fistfuls of grass and tearing them into tiny pieces. Brooke, the horn-rimmed glasses girl, was busily scribbling in her journal.

Brooke loves plants, and greenery, and just about anything that popped from the ground. She has to know why, why, why , _why_. Why are flower stems green? Why do humming birds prefer red than blue? Why does she hear cicadas at night, even through the sturdy walls of her home?

Karma's the best mentor Brooke could ever come to love. Karma introduced her to cross-pollination, how to collect data from your subjects without causing them much of a disturbance. She even lets Brooke stay over at her home sometimes!

"Flower stems're green because 's where all the photosynthesis takes place," Karma'd say as she and Brooke would venture to a selective patch of fertile land near the troll tree. "And hummingbirds like red, orange, and pink because they have ultra-violet vision. That means those colors stand out to them more. And cicadas...what you're hearing is literally hundreds of bugs wantin' to get laid."

Puzzle, on the other hand, is happy-go-lucky, and lets things play the way they're going to. He doesn't like to control variables when he can just watch 'em do their own little thing. He's a follow-the-funky-flow kinda guy. Brooke's impulsive need to know everything and know why everything is what they are makes him laugh sometimes. He takes after his mom that way.

He looks up at her, and impulsively, he gives her a once over. He notices how she side-eyes him from the book she's writing in, and she's not one-hundred-and-ten-percent focused on the flower in front of her. Her hands are trembling. Something's wrong.

Not just the looking-for-her-journal-and-frantically-tearing-the-house-down wrong, she's on edge. She needs to fidget. She's not fidgeting.

He should really do something about that.

Maybe it's something she picked up from dad. He does have his off days, and the two spend most of their time together. Brooke's an admittedly shy girl, and may or may not have a fear of meeting new people. When she does, she folds her hands behind her back respectfully, but it's really only to tap her thumb furiously against her fist, as a medium to get rid of her, for lack of a better term, phobia.

Puzzle continues to rip up tiny blades of grass nonchalantly, to ensure that Brooke thinks that he hasn't noticed. "Yeah?"

Brooke sighs, and shuts her book closed, gently laying the stick of charcoal next to it. Her eyes are afraid to move from their fixed position on the ground. In result, her glasses shift down her nose. Her body doesn't move when she speaks.

"Do you think we'll always be like this?"

Brooke feels terrible about breaking the silence for her frivolous worries, but she needs to know. Because once upon a time, there was once a tiny, shy, little girl. She was smart. She was quiet. She was sweet. And then, that tiny, shy, _beautiful_ little girl grew up. As unfortunate as it was for her, she grew up.

And Puzzle was growing up too. And it would never stop. He would be an adult one day. He might get _married_ one day. He'll have _children_ one day, children who might grow up to wonder the same thing Brooke wonders on a daily basis.

But it's not like she can just preamble up to him and ask him outta the blue. And it's not like Puzzle is all she has. She has her mom. Her mom's oddball group of friends. Her dad. Karma. Pretty much everyone living in the troll tree.

But do they spend time with her to get to know her? Do they know, that behind the quiet anxieties and introverted mask that she loves tricks? Do they know that she sings constantly with her brother in order to get their voice pitches right? Any other person would be weirded out by how similar they sound. Them? They just laugh and high-five.

And their adventures. And their _adventures_! Always wandering to the very outskirts of Bergen Town and peering out, making plans for things they know they'll never see, and talking to people they'll never meet.

How was she going to be able to do that on her own?

"What?"

"Think about it," Brooke instructs, hands neatly folded in her lap. "It's awesome to have fun with you and all, but...dad's the king, right?"

"Uh-huh."

"So what'll that make you when you grow up?"

"Wha'd'ya mean?"

"King, Puzzle," Brooke mumbles, pinching the bridge of her nose. "It'll make you king."

Puzzles nods, but by the look on his face, Brooke can tell he's still a little confused. "Yeah, so?"

"You'll be busy," she insists. "You'll go to meetings and talk with super important people and'll be in charge with keeping everyone safe. We won't be this close anymore."

"Grown up stuff, yeah," Puzzle acknowledges. "So what's the problem there?"

Brooke's definitely gained her short temper form her dad. She hops to her feet, groans, dragging her hands slowly down her face in dismay, and begins to pace the area around the daisy, bumping into it once or twice because her glasses fell during her ascent.

"Us, Puzzle! Us! One day we're going to stop talking to each other and we won't be like how we used to!"

"Yeah, I know."

"You _do_?" Brooke double takes. "And you aren't worried about it?"

"Why would I be?"

Brooke sighs. "Because we won't be like this."

"Like what?"

"Like _this_!" Brooke answers flippantly, throwing her arms in the air without missing a beat. "We won't go on adventures one day. We'll stop singing. We won't go around 'n trick people anymore. Doesn't that worry you?"

"You're the only one who does all the worrying," Puzzle points out, much to Brooke's pout. "Things happen the way they happen, Bee. Yeah, things'll change, we'll meet new people, I mean, relationships are huge commitments...but we're still here, right?"

He takes her silence as a sign that she's listening to him, and continues to speak.

"Of course we'll always be together, silly!" he spouts, lightly socking her arm. "We're twins! 'N not just any twins, we're the Discourse Twins!"

Puzzle, thinking that he's swayed his little sister's views, wonders. "So...why're you so scared anyway?"

Scared. Not worried. He can see right through her.

Because she likes this life. She likes just being Puzzle's sister. She likes being able to sneak off and trick and explore and have fun wherever they go. She was going to miss this _so much_. There are so many things she wants to say, like how when Puzzle nearly tripped off of a tree limb and dad saved him, how she wanted _all_ of them to lie on a big sunflower and watch the clouds, how their parents' voices sound when they sing together.

She is going to miss that sweet side of her brother, of her family, but he's going to change. _She_ 's going to change, everything and everyone's going to change. She'll be all alone in the end, wouldn't she?

She groans internally when a needle of warmth pricks at the corner of her eyes. Stupid mental and bodily reactions to stupid emotional problems that no one wants to deal with.

But she doesn't listen to the physical limitations that her mind screams at her. She ignores it squarely, and curls her big brother into a hug.

Her body chides her, forming a lump in her throat. "Everyone knows me," she murmurs. "I have friends all over the place," she whispers thickly, and holds him tighter. "But you're the only best friend I got."

Her worries become tangible, and begin to spill from her eyes, too overwrought to catch his reply, to upset to notice that that he's hugging her just as tightly as she is him, eyes open and realizing.

"I'm _scared_ of losing you."

He stands there with her, in the shade of a daisy, bits of green strewn across the ground, a red notebook, stick of charcoal, and a flower that looked way too exotic to live in a forest just a little ways past his foot.

Brooke cries, heaps of salty water glistening from her eyes and pooling onto his shoulder, the pause in her sobs accented by a quick breath and frantic clutch. Puzzle gently pats her back, something he does whenever she breaks down. What was she going to do once life separated them?

"I'm sorry," she blubbers. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm _so_ _sorry_."

"Silly," Puzz says, and even _his_ voice trembles. "It's gon' be okay."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *sobbing* i would die for them
> 
> yup that's it, this is done, everyone go home, love ya
> 
> man was this a doozy to actually get through sweet stars above
> 
> i bet this feels really new to the ao3 goblins but this was posted on tumblr _ages_ ago so yknow
> 
> But Brooke?? and Puzzle??? are really special to me especially when I have such a massive family. They have that kind of dynamic only siblings could have that I wish mine did. But I guess having my sister automatically know when I'm down might not be the best. But still. 'S nice to dream.
> 
>  [anyways, come chat](https://chasinthecloudsaway.tumblr.com/)

**Author's Note:**

> okay, yeah, that was...something. I guess.


End file.
